My Name Is Harry
by MoonFire1
Summary: There are many different definitions of 'care'. Harry copes with the consequences of different types of care. AU as of HBP and DH, but elements from both are borrowed.
1. Chapter 1

Title: My Name Is Harry

Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing in the Harry Potter universe belongs to me. This was written entirely for fun, and no monetary profit is being made.

Summary: There are many different definitions of 'care'. Harry copes with the consequences of different types of care.

Author Note: This is a result of me reading one too many stories that resulted in Harry experiencing 'child punishment'. Considering the extent of trauma he had experienced in his background, such a thing would have serious emotional and psychological consequences. Each person is entitled to his or her opinion—and this happens to be mine.

* * *

"My name is Harry . . . and I am not certain why I am here."

"Hi, Harry."

The unison answer made him smile a little.

"I remember how I felt during my first meeting," one girl, red-haired and blue eyed, said in a comforting tone. "Everyone looked so _happy_. I didn't think that I could relate to anyone--"

"God forbid anyone should be happy?" The remark came from the unofficial 'chairperson', a man by the name of Tiny. He stood almost two solid meters tall and had a very muscular build. Tattoos spiraled down his left arm. Despite his foreboding appearance, he struck Harry as being very gentle and aware of his own strength. He made Harry feel comfortable -- which, in turn, made him _uncomfortable_.

The red-haired girl made a face at Tiny, obviously used to receiving such a response. "My name is Tabitha and I am a trauma survivor," she stated primly, directing her attention towards Harry. "I've been coming to meetings for a few years. Every now and then, I feel as happy as others look."

"That would be nice," Harry agreed mutely, staring down at his hands. The scar left from Umbridge's Blood Quill had faded, fortunately, but other scars marred the skin.

He listened to others in the room talk about their own experiences. He had gasped when Tabitha described being nearly crushed in a car crash -- "I still dislike that specific junction. I can still hear the glass and metal breaking" -- and shuddered while Tiny spoke of watching his brother succumb to a terminal illness -- "After a while, he stopped asking for the pain medication. It didn't work fast enough. I couldn't see him in his face, not the boy I had grown up with--".

Other stories were similar and many shared elements with his own. Harry felt the tension in his shoulders ease as the discussion drew to a close.

"Would you like to share anything before we close?" Once again, Tiny drew his attention with unusual warmth.

"I . . ." He paused, uncertain what to say. "My name, as I said, is Harry . . . and . . . I saw people die. I was also abused, I suppose." The latter was added as an afterthought.

The smile on Tiny's face slipped momentarily. "Stick around half a moment after we close," the other man said softly before taking one of Harry's hands and bowing his head. Harry obligingly took Tabitha's outstretched hand and bowed his own head. He'd never been taught any prayers, but the one he heard filled him with an inordinate sense of peace. _Serenity would be nice. _

"You suppose you were abused?" Tiny's question was gently spoken. He pushed a steaming mug of tea into Harry's hands.

He stared into the steam, almost mesmerized. He had spoken more to this group of Muggles than he ever had to any among his own kind. He had felt safe during the meeting, and the feeling continued. Therein lay the most fundamental difference--since entering the magical world, Harry had been anything but safe. He could recognize that fact now, and he could also recognize the manipulations that had governed every aspect of his life, his secondary guardianship included.

"My aunt and uncle...didn't like caring for me," he said finally. "Eventually, I was removed from their custody."

"Harry, why do you flinch when I come close?" The second question, equally soft, made unnamed emotion well up tight and hot in Harry's chest.

"Too soon?" Humor breached through remembered pain. Tiny patted one of Harry's shoulders. "I'm guessing things didn't improve overly much once you were taken away from them."

Startled, Harry met his eyes, his own wide and panicked. "How did--"

"I know?" Humor was still very present. "You could say that I've been there."

"He meant well," Harry stated emphatically, while part of his mind wondered why he was coming to _his_ defense.

"Undoubtedly," Tiny agreed without hesitation. "But that doesn't change the results."

Nervously, Harry swallowed most of his tea. "I should be returning home."

"All right." He helped the other man put the room back in order and dispose of the various beverage cups and snack wrappers. "I hope I see you next week," Tiny said, falsely causal while he locked the building's door.

Harry shivered. The night was chilly and a slight breeze did not help the matter in the slightest. "I . . . hope to be here."

"Good." Tiny seemed to understand that a hug would not be welcomed at that particular time. "Be careful."

"I will." He watched the other man hail a cab. Afterward, he turned and walked down the street towards his own residence. Grimmauld Place was situation close to the clubhouse, as the building was called. He ate a light salad for supper and went to bed.

He did not dream. Despite everything he had felt at the meeting and the secrets he had almost shared, Harry did not dream. Instead, he experienced the first restful sleep he had enjoyed in several years.

-TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - Once There Was A Boy . . .

Disclaimer: It's JK Rowling's creation.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. I would like to clarify a couple of points: 1) Snape is the individual that Harry is chiefly resenting at the moment and 2) I never said that Snape was physically abusive. Verbal and emotional abuse can be just as detrimental as physical abuse.

* * *

There once was a boy who longed to know his parents. For a long period of time, nearly half of his young life, the only proof he had had of their existence had been in the way he addressed his relatives. "Aunt Petunia." "Uncle Vernon." He never saw a photograph while living in the perfectly normal house on Privet Drive, nor would anyone ever see actual proof of him once he had been taken away.

Harry had noticed the difference in how his cousin Dudley had been treated as opposed to himself. He longed for the same sort of praise continually heaped upon the other boy's head.

His aunt and uncle never touched him in kindness, and that cut him deeply, even years later. When others gave hugs or handshakes, he would stiffen before relaxing into the motion. The damage was done well before he received his Hogwarts letter, and very little was set to relieve it afterward. No one noticed his innate shyness, and very few asked why he preferred to spend his holidays at the school.

Questions complicated matters. Harry learned one reason why he was "special" each year of his education. Each time he survived and returned to stand before his peers and instructors, a little bloodier, eyes more shadowed, he learned of his worth in their eyes. It was more than he had ever seen in his relatives' regard, but it was still superficial.

Just how superficial it would be wasn't apparent until his new guardian claimed his custody.

"Even I will not abide for the abuse of children," Snape had said stiffly during the time. It was the warmest comment Harry had ever heard him speak in regards to himself -- and yet his stomach clenched.

Somehow, he knew it would be the _only_ warmth he would receive from the other man.

* * *

There once had been a boy that longed to save his parents. His father drank obsessively and blamed his other-worldly wife for the troubles in their lives. He by turns struck and ignored his son and spouse before trying to drown the guilt from those actions with whiskey and rye.

"I will not be like him, Mother," Severus had whispered into her ear once. She was sleeping and his father was missing--presumed to be down at one of his many favorite pubs.

He had started when Eileen reached up and stroked his face. "I hope so," she whispered back before slipping away into exhausted sleep. "I truly hope so."

Severus had wanted to make his mother proud. He also had wanted his father to accept the circumstances of their lives and embrace him as his son.

Severus had wanted many things.

He fulfilled one of them, and later cursed the fact that his efforts hadn't been enough. But how could they be? He had never been taught any other way, though his one friend had tried before their estrangement.

He did the very best that he could.

His knuckles whitened, crinkling the parchment his fingers clutched.

His best had not been enough.

* * *

"When was the last time you saw your guardian?" Tiny's brief should squeeze was almost familiar to Harry. He no longer flinched.

"The night before my eighteenth birthday." His words were slow, measured. He would answer the questions asked of him, but nothing more. Such reticence broke Tiny's heart--not that he would say as much. He did have a minor reputation to uphold.

"And the next day--"

"--I left the house at midnight. That was the first opportunity I had to leave without notice, and I did."

Tabitha breathed out softly. "And never looked back?"

". . . not precisely," Harry admitted. "I left him a letter. I . . . didn't wish for him to worry overly much, nor did I wish for him to come after me too quickly."

"So you cared." That comment came from Celina, a newer member of the trauma group. Her lips, slightly marred from scars left after being struck with a glass bottle, twisted. "It hurts to care about the ones who hurt us."

Harry breathed out heavily. "It does. It certainly does. I wanted to be loved . . . and part of me must have loved him. A little."

-TBC-


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three – I'm Only Human

Disclaimer: Rowling still owns them.

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. I do appreciate them. I'll admit to being a bit bemused by the statement that my Snape is a 'fanon' Snape. I am writing fanfiction, after all.

* * *

July 31, 1998 had not seemed like an extraordinary day to Severus. His charge had obligingly remained quiet about the day's significance to himself, though Severus certainly had intended to have some small celebration for him. He was not so cruel as to deny the boy an acknowledgment on the day he fully came of age in their world.

Two hours after he had risen, Severus began to feel uneasy. He would not call it worry, though the emotion certainly became apparent after a terse call up the staircase failed to yield the expected "Yes, sir."

Severus had marched up the stairs. "It may be the day of your birth, but that is no excuse for sloth," he had growled out, stalking down the hall towards Harry's room. No frantic scrambling came as a result of his words, which only raised his ire. "There is much that we must accomplish today in order to ease your transition--"

The boy's room was vacant. His wardrobe, devoid of clothing, and his trunk and broom were nowhere to be found.

Harry had left.

After recovering from his shock, Severus had cast out location charms in a vain attempt to determine which direction Harry had taken, but the charms were rebuffed. Really, he should have expected as much, for he had painstakingly taught the boy how to cover his tracks during the final months of Voldemort's terror.

His window was open, and a slight breeze cooled the room further, causing the page of a parchment to crinkle slightly.

_Professor Snape_, it was labeled, and Severus had picked it up.

_Professor Snape,_

_Do not trouble yourself further on my behalf. I am now an adult as Wizards determine such things, and I no longer require a guardian._

_I_ – the ink was heavy, indicating the author had paused in either thought or indecision –_I wish that I could say I will miss you. What I _can _say is that you taught me many things. Some, I will do my best to forget, but others I will undoubtedly remember._

_All of my life, I longed for a home. You gave me shelter, and I am grateful for that. But now, I find I am still seeking a home, and no one else will give it to me. Consider it my birthday present to myself. I would consider it a kindness if you do not attempt to contact me._

_Sincerely yours, _

_Harry Potter_

"I provided him with 'shelter'," Severus had whispered, the knuckles on his hands whitening. He wanted to feel furious over Harry's seemingly lack of gratitude. However, Severus Snape had always prided himself on his acceptance of honesty (in most cases), and he would not stoop to self deception once more.

He had never yelled at the boy once the term had ended. He had not struck Harry, burdened him with chores, or in any way, shape, or form echoed the treatment he had received at the hands of his relatives.

But neither had he embraced the boy as anything more than an obligation, and that attitude had been readily apparent to Harry. Severus had been told many times by his parents that he had been an unwanted burden. However unwittingly, he had passed that message on to the one he had sworn to protect.

He had wanted to feel furious, but all Severus felt was emptiness. The house was full of nothing but his own memories once again.

-TBC-


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four – Had I Only Known

Disclaimer: They belong to the successful blond-haired lady.

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. I do appreciate them.

* * *

_Present_

"My name is Harry, and I am a trauma survivor."

"Hi, Harry."

His voice was much more confident at this meeting, his seventh. One of the chairs in the circle had unofficially become "his". Tiny made a point of smiling and waving whenever he passed Harry on the streets, and Celina had invited him out for tea a few times. He didn't accept all of her invitations, but he deeply valued them.

He was beginning to believe that he had found one place where he could truly belong.

"I was rummaging through old assignments today," he began, not quite as focused on his hands as he had been before, "and I found some that my guardian had returned--"

"—He was your professor?"

Harry nodded. "That's all he ever was before he gained my custody. I hated his class. I always felt as though he were targeting me for his own vendetta."

"Maybe he was," Tiny pointed out pragmatically. "I think we all know that we deal with human beings, and that means we deal with the entire lot as opposed to those we might ideally wish to know."

Harry snorted. _If you only knew. _

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "The fact that he may have had a vendetta doesn't excuse his behavior," she replied, and Tiny nodded.

"No, it wouldn't."

Harry softly cleared his throat. "I was excited during the very first class I took. It was . . . chemistry, of sorts, and I wanted to learn how to create things. I wrote down every word he was speaking . . .and it began."

_Mr. Potter – our new _celebrity . . . _not paying attention . . . what would you get if you combined . . ._

Questions he could not have known or answered, yet the knowledge of that did nothing to remove the sting from that first memory.

"Was he ever reported?" Harry blinked at the question Tabitha had posed.

"His conduct was never a secret at the school. Our headmaster . . . "

"Wasn't much use there?" Celina sounded bitter. "Maybe it's a requirement for the job placement."

Harry felt anger build, a tight clenching of his stomach. _They don't know everything,_ he reminded himself, _and from their perspective, I can understand how such a conclusion could be drawn. I was a pawn, after all, and that truly was of no use to ensuring my long-term survival. _

* * *

_Fifth Year_

"You will be fine with Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes not twinkling as much as Harry was accustomed to seeing. "He will take care of all of your needs and you shall not want for anything."

Harry clung to his headmaster's words, repeating them in his own mind as a calming tool while Severus had tersely made arrangements for a Portkey to his home in Spinner's End. Harry's mind was numbed by grief for Sirius's death and the knowledge of the terrible prophecy that left him trapped in a twisted chess match.

Part of him knew that he would not allow Voldemort to survive, but another part of him honestly could not convince himself that he _would_ survive.

"I expect that you will keep your quarters clean," Snape said abruptly upon their arrival at the house.

"Yes, sir."

"I will not tolerate any unnecessary noises."

_Which probably includes talking? _"Yes, sir."

"Do make a stronger effort at your summer work. Occlumency will resume after you have . . . settled in." The words were obviously an effort.

"I never told anyone what I saw," Harry heard himself reply.

"It is of no consequence to me," Snape replied dismissively. "You must guard your mind. I shouldn't think that any of your friends need suffer your idiotic godfather's fate--"

_He wants a reaction, Harry. DON'T._

He breathed in and out, slowly. "Yes, sir."

Those two words were the only ones that Harry spoke that entire summer, and it seemed to Harry that an odd, triumphant gleam shone in Snape's eyes.

Harry's own eyes became shuttered.

* * *

_Present_

"Care for some ice cream?" Once again, Harry had lingered after the meeting and Tiny stayed behind to speak with his young friend.

Harry shook his head. "I've . . . been thinking about writing him. My guardian."

"Why?" From the bits and pieces that Harry had shared, Tiny wouldn't have been surprised if Harry actively chose to avoid the man for the rest of his life.

"He and I are very similar," Harry replied, once more focused on his hands. "And I never cared for complete solitude."

Tiny dropped a friendly hand on Harry's shoulders. "You have a big heart. I hope he doesn't break it."

Harry sighed and smiled sadly. "I doubt I would notice at this point."

-TBC-


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five – It Made Sense at the Time

Disclaimer: We all know that they do not belong to me.

A/N: I must be sounding like a broken record, but I really do appreciate the reviews. Thanks, guys.

* * *

"So, you sent him a letter."

Harry nodded and met Tiny's eyes. He was now officially Harry's "sponsor", and the two of them met regularly twice a week to discuss "step-work" and evaluate how Harry felt he was doing in his program. There had been a time when such regularity would have chafed at Harry, but that time had been reserved for a few carefree days.

He no longer felt guilty when he thought about them.

"He would no longer be dealing with the beginning of term madness and would have settled well into his teaching duties," Harry stated, consciously disallowing himself to fiddle with his fingers.

Tiny nodded. "How do you feel?"

Harry blinked. "I haven't received a reply."

The other man chuckled, giving him a knowing look. "That wasn't what I asked."

Harry ducked his head, feeling his face heat up slightly with embarrassment. "I know. I feel . . .fine, I suppose."

"Bollocks," his friend replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "You do not feel 'fine'. What have I told you about that word and what it really means?"

_**F**__ucked Up – __**I**__nsecure – __**N**__eurotic – __**E**__motional _

"You mean I am not any of those things?" Harry asked skeptically, inwardly marveling at his own daring. He had someone in a position of trust; someone with whom he could freely disagree without immediate negative consequences. It was sheer luxury!

"Oh, I never said any such thing," he replied breezily. "Only that even the ones who are entirely fucked up aren't beyond redemption."

Harry made a face. "Thank you ever so much."

Tiny laughed. "Would you like me if I lied to you?" The question wasn't humorous, but his devil-may-care attitude was infectious, and Harry found himself laughing without questioning why.

* * *

_September 28, 1998_

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I thought that perhaps it would be good to write to you. I am not doing so in order to accuse you of anything, or demand anything. A reply would be . . . acceptable, but I will understand if you do not. I undoubtedly hurt you with my chosen manner of leaving._

_I would be lying if I claimed it had been entirely unintentional._

_Once I had established myself in my home, I found I had much time in which to think. I no longer wish to be an Auror, nor do I wish to pursue a political career. That ambivalence has already baffled my friends. I suppose you wish to know the point of this letter, and please be assured it was not to ask for career advice._

_I said that I would not miss you._

_I've often said things that have proven to be false._

_I'm sorry, sir. I should have at least spoken with you before I left._

_If you wish to write, you need only tap the bottom of this page with your wand and my address will appear. It is spelled only to your wand, your eyes, and your magical aura, as you so diligently taught me._

_I am feeling better about some things. I have made some new friends – Muggles, truly decent ones. _

_I have undoubtedly rambled long enough. I do hope that you are well._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Harry Potter_

Once again, Severus held a sheet of parchment in his hands, and it trembled.

"Foolish boy," he whispered out loud. "Why are you apologizing to me when it is I who committed the worst offenses?"

_You could ask him, Severus_.

"Bugger off," he growled to the portrait of Dumbledore that hung in his office. Turning his back on familiar, albeit painted twinkling eyes, he tapped his wand indecisively against his teeth and stared at the parchment again.

The wood slipped lower and tapped the end of the page.

_Well done, my boy._

"Bugger OFF!"

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter – Harry,_

_I was unexpectedly gratified to receive your letter._

_Do not apologize on my behalf. You owe me nothing._

_-Severus Snape_

* * *

_Professor Snape,_

_You may have misunderstood my intentions. It, in all honesty, wasn't for your benefit that I wrote._

_It was for mine._

_-Harry Potter_

-TBC-


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six – Free To Fly

Disclaimer: Same song and dance. They are not mine.

A/N: Once again, I really do appreciate the reviews.

* * *

_Sometime Before Hogwarts_

The first blow had stung, but Harry did not flinch. Any movements doubled his punishments and he had learned to keep his muscles relaxed. The bruising would not be nearly so extensive.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Dursley had harshly screamed in his ear when Harry finally had slumped against the wall, his arms and legs trembling.

It never mattered what his perceived transgression had been, or even if Harry was aware of what he had supposedly done. Punishments came and went, and he had learned how to survive.

Harry always survived. His cupboard often became a sanctuary, a place where his uncle and cousin never dared to venture. His aunt ignored his existence unless she required labor for some odious task. It was his existence, his definition of normal, and Harry rarely let himself think that something was wrong.

What was the use in getting angry? No one would hear him.

No one ever heard.

* * *

_Sometime in Hogwarts_

"--it's well known that Muggles are a useless and violent lot," Binns droned. His class, thrilled collectively to have information that did not revolve around Goblin rebellions, looked up.

Harry had followed suit, but he felt sick in his chest.

"That's not entirely true," a voice spoke up. Harry was startled to realize it was his own. "Not all Muggles are violent—and they have reached the moon with their technology. Have wizards ever ventured so far?"

Binns had sputtered. Hermione, along with several other Muggleborns, had shot Harry a grateful look. He dutifully ignored the dark looks and whispers coming from others in the classroom.

"Why would any wish to go to the moon?" Binns finally had asked, giving Harry a dour look. "There is nothing to breathe there and we know that to be –"

"Exploration." It was a simple answer. "And they brought air with them."

After that class had ended, Ron took Harry aside. "Harry, I thought your relatives –"

"Not all Muggles are like them, Ron. Should I assume that all wizards are like Pettigrew?" Harry's tone had been frosty and Ron, flushing, obligingly dropped the subject.

* * *

_Present_

_Dear Harry,_

_These letters are for your sake? I must confess that I do not comprehend your meaning._

_It seems that I have failed to comprehend many things._

_-Severus Snape_

Harry read Snape's latest letter and sighed, pushing up his glasses. He knew all too well how easily his own emotions could be exploited.

"All right there, Harry?" Celina dropped a hand on his shoulder. Unthinkingly, Harry violently flinched and moved away, crossing to another seat in the circle. The two of them had been the first to arrive for their weekly meeting, and had yet to be joined by any of the others.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized after a moment, feeling his face heat up. "I was--"

"Remembering?" Her lips took on a familiar, sarcastic twist. "Memory is a bloody nuisance. Sometimes I wish I could get rid of mine."

Harry remembered what Lockhart had looked like after Ron's wand backfired on him. "I wouldn't say that much," he said honestly. "I just wasn't expecting you to touch me."

She nodded and thankfully did not ask for details. Few of his magical brethren had ever given him that sort of courtesy and the comparison made Harry think further.

* * *

_Dear Severus,_

_I hope you will forgive my presumption, but it seems foolish to continue to call you my Professor._

_I wonder why wizards consider themselves inherently superior to Muggles. In retrospect, I have been hurt far more often, and in far more reprehensible ways by magic than I have by the mundane._

_I . . . reacted to a friend putting a hand unexpectedly on my shoulder._

_She did not demand I tell her anything._

_It was most refreshing._

_What do you not comprehend, sir?_

_--Harry Potter_

* * *

Severus read Harry's letter and felt something in his heart clench.

_Harry,_

_I do not comprehend how you still feel kindness for others—for me._

_--Severus_

* * *

_Severus,_

_Neither do I._

_We are much alike, and I cannot continue to hate you without hating myself. I am tired of hating myself, but it is almost as familiar as a friend. I want to know what it will be like to wake up and not wonder why I still exist. My purpose was to commit murder, and I did, for the "greater good." Yet somehow, I fall asleep at night and wake up in the morning. I don't know what my purpose is now.  
_

--_Harry_

* * *

_Harry,_

_Live._

--_Severus_

--TBC--


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven -- Stepping Back

Disclaimer: They most certainly are not mine.

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews. To answer a reader's question: Harry was placed in Severus's custody by Dumbledore's manipulation. The Weasleys would not have provided Harry with the necessary training to do what Dumbledore wanted him to do. Ron and Hermione won't feature prominently in this story.

* * *

Four weeks passed between Severus's last letter. Harry had used that time to enroll in a few classes at a local university. He still had absolutely no idea what he wanted to do with his life, but he wanted to have something to look forward to as the seasons changed. His new classes would start in the spring, and by that point, he hoped to have a better understanding of where he was going.

"Are you planning to breathe at some point?" Tabitha's question came with gentle humor and a knowing look. Harry both hated and enjoyed the knowledge that he wasn't able to fool his friends, even when he desperately desired to do so.

"Honestly. I'm forty-seven years old and I still have no idea where my life is going," Tiny added, grinning at Harry's look of irritation. "Lighten up, kid. You're probably tired of being told over and over how well you've done so far, and that you have your entire life ahead of you. It's all right to be young for a day or two.

* * *

_Young for a day or two. _The words brought Ron and Hermione to mind, oddly enough. He felt a twinge of guilt--their owls went infrequently answered, as he felt his answers weren't enough to satisfy them.

_Harry,_

_Come by the Burrow . . . we can play Quidditch . . . Ginny misses you . . . I've decided to look into employment at the Ministry . . . Charlie wants me to work with dragons with him . . . _

Their words were safe, familiar, comforting, and normal. He hated the lack of change, their stagnant perceptions of him.

He was no longer the boy who stole through the castle at all hours of the night, hidden under a cloak and guided by a faultless map. He wasn't the boy who strove valiantly to save more than just his own cherished person from the bottom of the lake, nor was he the brave leader who had walked unflinchingly to his death.

* * *

Three nights after his latest meeting, Harry woke up gasping, clutching the covers to his chest.

His dream had been _happy_, and he burst into tears. He scrambled for the telephone by his bed -- the use of Muggle electronics in Grimmauld Place was just one of many ways he employed to drive Kreacher and the Black portraits mad -- and dialed a familiar number.

"Tiny? It's Harry. I'm sorry that I'm calling so late--I just--yes, I'm fine -- no, you're right, I'm not fine -- would you? That would be brilliant." He hung up, dressed hurriedly, and left the house.

Tiny had offered to meet him at a local diner, one that remained open at all hours.

"So tell me about this dream," Tiny pressed him, voice gentle and expression showing no irritation at being awoken at four in the morning.

"I was flying," Harry said, fingers toying with his napkin, "with my godfather. My parents. My friends. I was flying with them, and you and the others were their. My guardian was there. We were all so . . . _happy_. I woke up and I didn't know how to handle that. I'm so very sorry for waking you up with my rubbish--"

"Nonsense. I have a hard time accepting happiness too."

Harry blinked. "You do?" Tiny had always seemed so sure of himself and his place in the world, his own traumatic past notwithstanding.

He nodded, sipping his tea. "Oh yes. Whenever something wonderful happens, I feel elated, and then I immediately have to remind myself that my brother will never feel the same sort of thing, or experience it. I punish myself for happiness."

"That's what I'm doing?" Harry asked, looking and sounding terribly young. "I'm not allowing myself to be happy."

"Have you thought about working step nine? Making your amends?" Like the others, this question was gentle. "It might help you realize that it's all right for you to be happy once those old debts are settled, at least in your mind."

Harry looked into his own cup of tea. "Some I won't ever be able to make in person."

"Write a letter and burn it. Say a prayer with a candle. Donate to a charity." All three suggestions were made easily. "In the meantime, finish your tea, muffin, and then go home and go to bed. You need to take care of yourself first, Harry."

* * *

_Take care of yourself first. _

Steeling himself, Harry apparated back to Hogsmeade and slowly followed the path to Hogwarts. Students gawked at him, but he ignored their stares, questions, and whispers.

Letting memory guide his feet, he made his way down into the dungeons and knocked on Severus Snape's door.

When it opened, Harry resolutely looked up from his feet. "Hello, Severus."

-TBC-


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight - Hard to Breathe

Disclaimer: They still do not belong to me.

A/N: I'm blown away by the reception this story has received. Thank you very much.

* * *

"Harry." Severus could not keep surprise out of his voice or off of his face. Though the tone of their correspondence had gradually warmed to something resembling camaraderie, he had not expected Harry to visit him.

He honestly had not expected to see him again, and for that he damned himself daily.

"May I come in?" Harry kept the uncertainty of his welcome off of his face, but he could not keep the slightest hesitant note out of his voice.

"Of course," Severus replied, stepping back and letting the younger man precede him into his living quarters.

It was not as sparsely decorated as Harry might have expected from the house on Spinner's end. Green and silver provided beautiful contrast against the ancient stonework. A fire burned steadily in his fireplace, warming the room beyond simple magical means.

"May I offer you tea?"

"No, thank you." Harry took a seat on a low chair, and Severus followed suit.

He tried not to stare too obviously. Harry's time on his own had added color to his face and confidence to his bearing. He was still a young man, but not the same young man that had languished in his inadequate care. "You look well," he told Harry truthfully, wishing for the first time that he had been better gifted in casual speech.

"Thank you." Harry laughed slightly. "My friends insisted that I learn to take better care of myself."

His friends. All Severus knew about the nameless lot was contained in a few scant lines in each letter. Muggles, trauma survivors like Harry, who had taken him under their collective wings. They had obviously treated him well, and Severus found himself curious to know more.

"Why are you here?" It was the first of many questions.

Harry met his eyes steadily. "To make my amends to you."

"You owe me nothing," Severus said stiffly, his face closing. "We have already discussed this matter--"

"No, we didn't," Harry replied implacably. "You stated that I owed you nothing, that the fault was entirely yours. Perhaps it was, but I do owe you amends for other transgressions, and I would like to sleep through the night once again. _That's _why I am here."

"Very well," Severus said finally, having determined the young man's sincerity in his eyes. "But I insist upon the tea."

Harry laughed, and it was the first time he had genuinely laughed in Severus' presence. "Of course."

* * *

"There were many instances where others spoke ill of you, or were most disrespectful, and I said nothing. Other times, I was the instigator, and still others, I encouraged it. It was remarkably easy to hate you and I felt I needed that hate. So long as you were a constant figure to be loathed, I could ignore others. I'm not proud of that." Harry resolutely met Severus' eyes during his narrative. "You know of when we stole supplies from you and of the other times when I snuck around the school. You were right, sir -- I never allowed the rules to apply to me."

He swallowed hard. "I accepted your guardianship due to Professor Dumbledore's pressure--and his reassurances. I never complained about how I was treated, for it was certainly better than how I had been regarded by the Dursleys. I never complained, and that allowed me to continue hating you. You wouldn't have known anything different--"

"But I did know differently," Severus interrupted, his voice thick. "I saw the anger and anguish in your eyes--and I reveled in it. I am not proud of that fact, Harry, but it is the truth. I felt triumph in your pain and exploited it for both the Order's and my own personal satisfaction."

Harry nodded mutely and looked down at his clenched fist. Taking a breath, he looked back up. "I told you in my letter that I wanted my manner of leaving to hurt you. I regret that most of all. And do not tell me that you deserved it -- I don't want to keep justifying what I did."

It was Severus' turn to nod, mute with inexpressible emotion.

* * *

"Will you allow me to make my own amends?" Severus asked him later, old wounds still smarting between the two of them.

"Only if you understand why you are doing so," Harry replied wearily. "I did not do this in order to receive something in return."

"I know." With a flick of his wand, Severus banished the tea tray. "I still do not believe I deserve that consideration."

"With all due respect, sir, that is your problem and not mine." Severus turned, startled, and met laughing green eyes. Only these eyes were not part of a haunting memory, and he found himself captivated once again.

"I cannot say that I approve of your friends if this is what they have taught you," he settled for saying haughtily before seeing Harry to the door. "Thank you . . . for coming."

Harry nodded, an indefinable burden in his eyes lifted. "Perhaps . . . perhaps there might be a time when a reciprocal visit may be planned," he said finally, having tested the words in his head and not finding any panic.

"I leave that to your discretion. Goodnight."

The door closed, but both knew another was open.

* * *

Harry slept peacefully that night. Once again, his dream was happy, and he did not try to tell himself, even in a dream, that he was unworthy of it.

Severus did not battle his dreams. He met Lily's eyes and watched them crinkle in happiness. He saw her take James Potter's arm and no longer felt the old hot flame of bitter envy take hold.

"You would be proud of him," he said wistfully. "I am."

-TBC-


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine – Standing in the Sun

Disclaimer: They still do not belong to me.

A/N: Once again, thanks for the reviews. You guys are absolutely awesome.

* * *

"Where's Tiny?" Harry had been late arriving at the meeting, a much anticipated (at least on his part) "birthday night." He would be receiving a three month chip as a symbol of the efforts he had been taking to actively put his traumatic past behind him. "Celina?"

The girl turned towards him and he gasped at the sight of her mascara-and-tear streaked face. "Harry." Her voice wavered and she buried her face in her hands, crying softly.

At one point, he would have awkwardly patted her shoulder to offer solace. Instead, he gave her a strong hug. "Tell me what's happened. Why are you crying?"

"I heard . . . on the news . . ." her words were jumbled, interrupted by gasps and soft sobs.

"What did you hear?"

"Tiny . . . you know his name was Luthor, right?" At Harry's nod, "I recognized the address that was said . . . someone broke into his house . . . he's at the hospital now . . . they wouldn't tell me anything--"

Harry felt his heart clench, a cold hard, frighteningly _familiar_ knot forming in the pit of his stomach. "No. No. We'll wait for Tabitha and then we'll all go to the hospital together." He continued murmuring, keeping his voice low and soothing, unconsciously emulating the man who had spoken so gently to him and guided him over the past few months.

Tabitha arrived a few moments later and was quickly filled in on the situation. "All right," she said briskly, wiping her own eyes dry, "grab the chip basket. We're going to have birthday night with Tiny, even if we have to be out in the hall. He'd . . . he'd do the same for us."

Harry followed the two girls out and waited with them for a taxi. Thoughts raced in his head. _This is why you don't want to care for people, Harry. It hurts and it will only hurt you more--NO! No, I won't think that way anymore! Yes, it hurts, but we're all hurting together. I'm not hurting alone anymore._

"I'm not in the cupboard anymore," he murmured softly, almost to himself. Celina over heard his words and, despite not knowing the full story behind them, took his hand.

"None of us are."

* * *

A somber group gathered in room 214. Tiny had been assaulted by a man trying to find money for narcotics. He had been beaten severely and remained unconscious. The doctors did not have him in ICU, as they were confident he would regain consciousness soon, and they encouraged his friends to speak to him.

Harry swallowed hard and felt tears well up in his eyes at the sight of his friend hooked to IVs, other machinery, and swaddled in bandages.

Tabitha put a small red chip in his hands. He turned it over – it was his very first chip – and read the words _To Thine Own Self Be True_ on the back.

"My name is Harry and I am a trauma survivor," he began, his voice shaking with emotion.

"Hi, Harry." Like the first time it had happened, the response made him smile a little.

"I was abused by my relatives when I was younger. Locked in a cupboard that was my room. I knew nothing of my parents beyond the lies my aunt and uncle told me . . ."

Harry talked for thirty solid minutes, sharing as much as he could without breaching the wall between his worlds. He spoke clearly, he spoke honestly, and he didn't try to blink away the tears that streaked down his face.

It may have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Tiny smile very slightly and stir towards the end of his narrative.

"I'm somewhat reconciled with my guardian," Harry concluded. "He's as much a trauma victim as I am . . . and if he should find his way to a meeting, I would be glad to welcome him."

"Good job, kid," came a rough whisper. Tiny moved slightly and opened his eyes. "Good job." The serious nature of his condition was the only thing that kept three young adults from piling onto his bed, but they swarmed closer, each of them reaching out to touch him and reaffirm their individual sense of reality.

"This isn't what I meant by adding to your story," Tiny said later, having received well wishes and goodbye hugs from the other two girls. "Don't keep me on it."

"I won't," Harry assured him. "I'm just very glad that you are all right."

"Me too," Tiny said with good humor. "And I'm very glad that you're all right as well."

Harry laughed. "I am?"

_I am. I am truly all right now -- or at least I am beginning to be._

* * *

_Dear Severus,_

_I have told you about my friends. Would you like to meet them?_

_--Harry_

Once again, Severus Snape found himself completely astounded by a Potter.

_Harry,_

_It would be my honor._

_--Severus_

--End--


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue - Flesh, Blood, and Pain

Disclaimer: We all know the drill.

A/N: For those of you who were unsatisfied by the last chapter. A sequel isn't out of the question. Thanks for the continued support.

* * *

"I was very surprised to receive Harry's invitation," Severus said thoughtfully, looking over to where the young man in question stood, laughing with his two new Muggle friends.

"I was a little surprised that he sent it," Tiny replied evenly, with his usual blend of tact and honesty. The two had been introduced by Harry ("Tiny, this is Severus Snape -- you've heard me speak about him. Severus, this is the man who has been helping me so much in the past few months --"), and were presently engaged in a silent competition. Who would blink first? Who had the most reason to feel resentful -- or ashamed?

When Severus felt particularly honest during their conversation, he knew what the answers were to those questions without hesitation. Oddly enough, he no longer felt the old familiar urge to continue to lie to himself about his reality or his role in it. His headaches and nightmares had noticeably diminished as a result.

He had also tried integrating different teaching methods. Harry's testimony had been crucial in securing his place at Hogwarts after Voldemort's downfall, and it seemed only proper to show the difference between the spy act, and who he actually was. The fact that he was still determining the latter was something that he mentally deemed irrelevant.

It was slow progress. He had spent many years shamelessly taking advantage of honest mistakes and not resorting to such tactics was a difficult struggle. But he tried -- and not as many students flinched when they looked at him now. A few even felt secure enough to ask questions during class. There was a hitherto unknown pleasure at seeing understanding in a child's eyes once a difficult concept had finally been explained, and he found himself enjoying his job for the first time in his life.

His colleagues had noticed the gradual change as well. Some openly speculated on the catalyst for it, but he never answered their questions. Some parts of his reputation, he would gladly keep.

* * *

When Severus received Harry's letter and accepted his invitation, he had not imagined what exactly it would entail. Muggle London was a place he had always avoided, but there, he immediately felt safe in anonymity. It was oddly comforting to be introduced to a group of strangers and be granted clemency. Acceptance might not even be completely out of the question.

Six months prior to this evening, he would have never envisioned himself accounting for his actions to anyone, much less a strange Muggle with a peculiar nickname. Yet Severus could hear the calm in his voice that Harry's letters had eventually described, and he found it just as comforting as it was disconcerting.

Aside from Albus, no one had ever known him at a glance -- nor would anyone have ever tried to know him. He would not have allowed any perceived intimacy, for fear of a weakness being found and exploited.

* * *

_The strong forgive. _It was one of many things that Harry had written to him. The words had not orginated with the boy, but that did not lessen the truth they bore. _The strong forgive. I have never been strong. _

"I can never take back what I have done," he admitted now, meeting the other man's eyes for as long as he dared before dropping his gaze. "I thought I knew better--and I was the adult, yet I shamelessly perpetuated --"

"Save your story for a meeting," Tiny replied, a hardness in his eyes softening. "It's not one that we've heard in a while."

Severus felt confused. "Harry has spoken to you about me--"

"He has protected you and tried to take the shame upon himself," Tiny gently corrected. "He's not doing that anymore -- and your story deserves to be heard. _You_ deserve to be heard."

A loud burst of laughter interrupted their conversation momentarily -- Tabitha had managed to dump a handful of ice down Celina's shirt, and was cackling hysterically while using Harry as a human shield. Seeing simple, uncomplicated enjoyment on the young man's face softened something within the professor.

"I don't feel that I deserve it," he replied finally, turning back to Tiny.

"I know," came the matter of fact reply. "And that's Step One. Come to a meeting. By the time it ends, you might feel like you do."

It hurt to trust others. It certainly hurt to take an honest look at himself. But once again, Harry -- and his friends -- had something that Severus desperately wanted.

"Perhaps I will," he said, a note of pure longing in his voice. "Perhaps I will."

--The End--


End file.
